The tavern is quiet. The air smells of damp wood, sweat, and fear. The moment ๐ฅ๐ช๐ป๐ฒ๐ช๐ท steps inside, the silence thickens, as if the room itself is holding its breath. A man stammers, โYouโฆ youโre Duskbane. The Last Fang.โ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ป๐ฒ๐ช๐ท didnโt respond, just pulls off his gloves, revealing hands marred with old scars. He moves toward the counter. The barkeep, pale and trembling, โIt knows youโre hunting it.โ ๐ฅ๐ช๐ป๐ฒ๐ช๐ท spoke โIt knew the moment it left a survivor.โ
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